A Beginning
by bombahead
Summary: A personal interpretation of what might have happened, as Auron made his way back to Bevelle, after having lost Braska and Jecht.
1. Chapter 1

A Beginning  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The hooting of an owl signalled the late hour. Long shadows violated the feeble light cast by a small fire. Centered in the middle of a forest glen, it did not do much to sway the darkness. The figure sitting by the fire didn't seem to mind.  
  
His robe was cast to the side, the smell of fresh blood and the maroon of dried gore seemingly the reason. The cadavers of a pack of lizards lay piled up at the edge of the trees, having failed to protect their territory from the intruder.  
  
The figure put some more wood on the smouldering fire. At a closer look, his actions went beyond the surface methodicalness, the rigidity of his motions suggesting that his mind was wandering somewhere else. The busy forest noises passed him by, the unclouded, star-speckled sky did not draw his attention.  
  
He reached up and gingerly touched the scar that made its course across his right eye, stopping at the bridge of his nose. Fingers reached where there should have been blood and angry, inflamed flesh. What met their touch was scar tissue, apparent, but completely healed.  
  
The full clunk of a bottle being lifted drew the attention of small creatures, lurking in the deep shadows of bushes and thickets, pressing themselves further down the grass. The inquisitive owl turned its head around with a clockwork motion, yellow eyes widening to see the noisy human better.  
  
Having sniffed the contents, the man took a swig from the bottle. It was water, but the knowledge did not come from taste, but his mind. It was like trying to drink the image of a sphere-recording. Feeling a bit foolish and bewildered, he lay back to sleep, dismissing the strange sensation.  
  
The owl lost interest. It hooted some more, shook its wings, then disappeared into the night, in search of prey.  
  
Sleep wouldn't come to him. His body was telling him that he was tired, but his mind argued against this. And like it wasn't enough that his body wasn't listening to him, he couldn't remember anything. The memories, they were all there, somewhere, but eluding him, like small silvery fish, slipping out from between his fingers all too easily. The one thing that had not escaped him was his name. Auron. He said it aloud a couple of times, just to get the feel of it. Auron. What kind of person was he, Auron? A melancholy mood settled over him, preventing anger from enclouding his mind. Well, if he couldn't sleep, then he sure wouldn't stay here all night. He put out the fire, gathered his robe, and left the glen, walking southwards.  
  
Attentive eyes looked after him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Rain was in the air. The shopkeeper at the Calm Land's travel agency prepared the tarpaulin used to shield from the wind whipping the ice-cold rain into his face. Sometimes he cursed Mr. Rin for the impossible architecture of his shops. Although very, very quietly.  
  
The playful breeze of the plains coupled with the stoic snow-burdened clouds of Mt Gagazet resulted in a storm that always caught travellers unaware. For the shopkeeper it meant dealing with soaked, and considerably grumpier customers.  
  
The first raindrops arrived, beating out a smattering, pattering rhythm on the tarpaulin. He watched morosely as the drops increased in frequency, until all he could hear was the tippity-tap of water hitting cloth. He went inside.  
  
Auron trugded forward, robe soaked, boots yielding to the suction of mud. He was troubled. What had happened at the foot of the mountain cast a whole new light on the situation.  
  
He had made his way succesfully down Gagazet, where two Ronsos had been guarding the exit to the plains. At first they showed great surprise, but soon hurried with joyous expressions towards him, calling him "sir" and "guardian". Guardian of Summoner Braska.  
  
The name sounded right, Braska. Like a well-used sword to its master's grip, so the name rolled easily off his tongue. The Ronsos had also told him to seek for their leader, the Elder, at Bevelle, where, as they said, the whole world had gathered to celebrate. "To celebrate what?" he had asked. The two had had looked at him, confused, insofar as you can tell with Ronsos, and answered: "The death of Sin, my lord."  
  
He never had forgotten, had he? That's what Lord Braska, Jecht, and he had set out to defeat. What had been a duty, a holy mission, a drunkard's dare, had changed the lives of hundreds of thousands. Now, as he thougt back, one of the Ronsos had asked about "the other guardian". That was Jecht.  
  
He heard a noise which made him tense. A wolf leapt at him, young and hungry, and soon, very much dead. Auron wiped his blade in the wet grass. Bevelle it was then. 


	3. Chapter 3

Auron had never really liked the city of Bevelle.

With the tentacle-like arches of the Bevelle church reaching out all over the metropolis, he always felt suffocated by its vigilant watch over the residents.

The residents…

Bevellians had a strange quiet quality to them. They watched what they said and did, and the church was never a topic of conversation amongst strangers.

There were innumerable religious sleuths intent on proving the guilt of the sinful, and the sinful seemed to abound…

He directed his steps towards a tavern, "The Napping Bear", a place he had frequented much during his student days. He doubted anybody would recognize him. Wear and tear was

high on warrior monks.

He entered the tavern, and the sight of empty chairs, abandoned drinks and drunks, and a jittery barkeep met him.

"What's happened, old man?"

The barkeep gave the tramp in red a sharp look, but softened it as he took notice of the big sword slung around the fine gentleman's shoulder.

"Sir, you honestly don't know?"

"Obviously…"

"Sin! Sin's been defeated! All the people have gathered at the main church, and the ones that won't fit inside are all jam packed at the main square."

"Ah…"

Auron turned and walked towards the door.

"A complimentary drink, sir, on the house? Tell your friends?"

"Sir?"


End file.
